Behind the Wall of Apathy
by Pen Name FTW
Summary: Everything isn't always as it seems, especially where Slytherins are concerned. But can Harry Potter learn to see behind the wall of apathy some chose to hide behind? Can Tracey ever let anyone behind that wall? Will contain some romance, non slash. Begins summer before OoTP, mildly AU. MentorSnape! Eventually Harry/Tracey.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The Harry Potter world is property of J.K. Rowling. Also posted in "The If You Dare Challenge".

**A/n:** So the inspiration from this story is based on my story, Origin of Symmetry on my other FF account. Like my other story, it will start in the summer before Order of the Phoenix and from there this story will diverge (not sure how much yet) from canon. Like in my other story, Tracey Davis will be Snape's goddaughter, however, unlike Origin of Symmetry, that relationship will not go awry here the way it did there. Snape will remain a mentor/father figure to Tracey.

**A/n 2:** Please review if you enjoy the story. Reviews are what keep me motivated to continue on with a story. So if you do like this, then I highly suggest you review, because I tend to have a short attention span when it comes to writing stories.

**Prompt:** Settling in for a Long Siege (#16)

* * *

"_There's another world inside of me  
That you may never see.  
There's secrets in this life  
That I can't hide.  
Somewhere in this darkness  
There's a light that I can't find,  
Maybe it's too far away...  
Or maybe I'm just blind..."_

_-Three Doors Down, When I'm Gone _

* * *

Tracey Davis, never really knew her parents. They were there somewhere she knew, somewhere deep in her memories, but she couldn't find them. She couldn't for the life of her really remember them; she was simply so small when she lost them both, that they were a complete blur. Though, sometimes she dreamt of them. Dreamt of their warmth, their quiet happiness. Dreamt of being small and tucked in their arms, where she was safe and felt loved.

Having lost both her parents before she was even two, Tracey was raised by her maternal grandmother, the only living relative Tracey knew of. Being as her grandmother was a muggle, and quite a bit old, it was really inevitable... her death.

For Tracey, it hadn't exactly been hard losing the only relative she had ever known. Though, she loved her grandmother and had often enjoyed sitting near her and listening to stories of her mother, Tracey was a bright enough girl to know that her grandmother's death was ineluctable, and that it would leave her alone in the world. She had mentally and emotionally prepared herself for it, so that when it occurred before her eleventh birthday, it wasn't so hard. In fact, the only way Tracey remembered the funeral, was as if she were watching the whole thing from outside of her body.

Perhaps she was a cynical, if a bit morbid, child, but considering the events of her young life, it was all Tracey could afford to be. Tracey had hardened herself to life, because it was the only way she knew to keep going. She learned to put distance between herself and almost anyone around her, because she figured if she didn't allow herself to care for anything, that she could not be hurt.

After her grandmother's death, Tracey had numbly watched as her fate was decided for her. It was with dispassionate eyes that she took in one Severus Snape, who it turned out was actually her godfather. Tracey had never met the man before, and though his appearance was foreboding, Tracey couldn't help being curious about the man.

Curious about which of her parents he'd been particularly close friends with, in order that they had trusted him with the care of their daughter. Wondered if he were her godfather, where he had been all her life.

However, Tracey had quickly stomped on her curiosity. She couldn't really afford to be curious. Curiosity could give way to caring, and caring could give way to hurting. Tracey wasn't ready to allow that kind of pain in her life, after living so many years with a quiet longing that couldn't be fulfilled.

Though, Snape had turned out to be a somewhat cold, temperamental and distant man, Tracey found in the course of the next few years that as much as she wished to, she couldn't distance herself from him. Because despite the fact that he was a crotchety man, she found that in his own ways, he showed that he cared. Cared not only for her physical well-being, but her emotional well-being as well.

Perhaps Tracey couldn't fully heal, perhaps to all the world she was still an anti-social girl with a mean and even cruel streak that most didn't bother trying to get past, but she didn't get any worse. She didn't completely close herself off to the outside world, she didn't completely revert inside of herself and disdain all company, and she certainly didn't allow the bitterness, anger and hate to take hold of her completely.

**~X~**

"Are you all packed?"

Tracey didn't look up from her task. She didn't need to. Being as she and her godfather were the only inhabitants of Spinner's End, it was completely unnecessary as it couldn't really be anybody else. Besides, her godfather had a very distinctive voice, that it was too easy to recognize after four years.

"If I'd have known that I was going to be repacking in a matter of a fortnight, I wouldn't have bothered unpacking in the first place," Tracey stated through gritted teeth, throwing the last of her neatly folded clothes into her school trunk. It made a soft thud as it landed, but Tracey paid it no mind as she looked up and stared about her room.

In the last four years, the small spartan room that she'd grown to inhabit every summer and holiday Severus could get them away from the castle, she hadn't added very much to to the room. Apart from the small single bed, the desk, the book-case and wardrobe, there really wasn't much to the room and the only thing that was truly hers was the trunk at the foot of her bed and all the possessions it currently held.

"I think that is everything," Tracey finally said with a sigh, knowing that she couldn't put this off any longer. As much as Spinner's End was bleak and a bit decrepit, she had grown to think of it was home, even at times more so than Hogwarts was. At least in Spinner's End she could be alone with the only person she truly cared for anymore, and was afforded _real_ privacy, which was never the case when you had to share a dorm with three other girls.

The idea that she would soon be sharing a house with... more people than she knew, and a considerable portion of them being Gryffindor's, made her highly uncomfortable and apprehensive. It was why she loathed the idea so much, but as Severus had pointed out to her, she didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

The Dark Lord was back. Severus would be working as a double agent. Spinner's End was no longer a safe place for her to reside, which was why he thought it best that he take her to the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters to spend the remainder of the summer. Tracey had been explained all this by Professor Dumbledore, and he'd trusted her discretion not to repeat anything she knew to anyone else.

Tracey mentally scoffed at this. As if she would. It wasn't as she really had any friends, and the few people she _did_ talk to, she didn't trust as far as she could throw. All her _friendships_ were shallow and anything but warm and trusting. Besides, she never spoke of her "home life" to anyone in Slytherin and over the years, her classmates had learned it was better not to ask, for all the good it did them.

"Well if you find later that you are missing anything, you can always tell me and I will bring it to you when I see you next," Severus stated form where he stood in her doorway, as he very rarely ever actually came into her room.

Shutting her trunk, Tracey turned to look at her godfather, her pretty features contorted into a scowl. That was the hardest part of the whole deal. Not only was she going to be shut away in a house with a bunch of strangers and Gryffindors, but Severus wasn't going to be there with her. He would only turn up to check on her now and then.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his dark eyes taking her in with well-hidden concern.

"As I'll ever be," Tracey responded, her large grey-green eyes turning to look at him with a learned apathy that was impenetrable, even to him at times. Looking away from the petite fifteen-year-old, Severus stepped into the room. Quickly shrinking the trunk, he pocketed the item.

"I'm going to have to disillusion you" he informed her. Tracey nodded her head, acquiescing though she didn't really care one way or another. As hard as if was for her to trust, she'd come to trust in Severus implicitly.

She felt a gentle tap on her head, quickly followed by a rather odd sensation like an egg had been cracked over her head, washing her whole being with a tingly, cool feeling. She watched with only mild interest as Sever repeated the process with himself before extending a black-clad arm to the visibly unhappy girl. Taking a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes, Tracey straightened her spine.

Knowing what she was about to face, she mentally steeled herself up for it, and masked her face with her usual stony expression before stepping towards her godfather. Taking his sleeve in a slender hand with long dexterous fingers, she shut her eyes against the sensation of apparition.

It only lasted a moment, but when it was over and Tracey once more opened her eyes, she took in the building before her trying to ignore the sensation of nausea passing over her. Her godfather explained to her how the Fidelius Charm, which his the Order's Headquarters, worked. And given that Dumbledore himself had told her about the location, she watched with veiled fascination as number twelve Grimmauld Place suddenly sprang up between number eleven and number thirteen.

Tracey dropped her hand from his sleeve. It took mere moments for the place to fully emerge and situated itself between the two other buildings. As soon as it was done, a hand gently but firmly grabbing hold of her upper arm, quickly guided her across the street and up to the secret headquarters.

A tap of Severus wand, several metallic clicks, and a clatter of a chain later, and the heavy door of Grimmauld place creaked open. With his left hand still held around her arm, Severus guided Tracey into a dark hall which smelled strongly of rot, and dust. As the door shut behind them, it took a few moments for Tracey's eyes to adjust to the new darkness.

"I will remove the disillusionment on you now. Be mindful to always be very quiet in this hall," Severus said in low tones, before tapping her on her head to get rid of the Disillusionment Charm. Tracey nodded her head at the odd instructions, and paid no mind as Severus repeated the process on himself. Her eyes had now adjusted to the dark, and she was able to better see the hall, what little of if there was to _see_.

Tracey had to say that her first impression of Grimmauld Place was anything but favorable. Her stomach twisted as her lips snarled into a grimace as she took in the dark and derelict surroundings. Truly, it wasn't much worse than Spinner's End, but at least Spinner's End was _clean_. However, as Tracey took in the details in the hall... the old dusty chandelier, the threadbare carpets, the candelabra on a nearby table, the peeling wallpaper, the old gas lamps on the wall... she knew that this house had once been the height of expensive, if dark, taste.

"Come along," Severus directed in a quiet voice, walking ahead of her. Tracey dutifully followed, her light steps muffled by the worn carpet underfoot. She took note as she passed a large portrait covered by black curtains, and was careful avoid the distasteful troll-leg umbrella stand, before mounting the stairs which she noticed with morbid fascination was mounted with the heads of House Elves.

On the first floor, she followed Severus down a hall, past two doors before arriving at a door that was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, he quickly ushered Tracey in before shutting the door behind himself. As her godfather busied himself with pulling her trunk from his pocket and returning it to it's original size, Tracey cast a somewhat disparaging and hopeless look about the room.

Like the rest of the house, it was only lit by gas lamps and was decidedly dilapidated. However, as she looked critically about, she noticed that it was decidedly cleaner than the hall. It at least was several layers of dust lighter, and the bedding at least looked clean. Tracey guessed this meant that _someone_ had gone to the trouble of preparing this room for inhabitation.

Apart from the bed situated in the middle of the room, a towel rack beneath the window at the far end, and a night stand next to the bed, there wasn't much else to the room. It was draped in dark, grey-blue wallpaper that was peeling like that of the entrance hall and the bedding was covered in dark grey and black covers.

Taking note of the single bed, Tracey guessed this meant that she wouldn't have to share a room. However, as she considered the size of the bed, which would fit two conformably, she decided to make certain.

"Will I have to share the room?" she asked aloofly, her naturally sultry voice heavier still in the dark room.

"No, I felt it was best you were allowed your own room. There is one other bedroom on this floor, which is currently occupied by Miss Weasley. However, as I understand it, Miss Granger will soon be joining the Weasley's, and it is best for all involved if Miss Granger shares a room with Miss Weasley," he explained as he finished with his task and turned to look at her once he'd situated her trunk at the foot of her bed. "As I understand it, Mr. Weasley is on the second floor, and the twins are on the third floor with their parents.

"I am telling you now, Tracey, that I do not want you to venturing up to the third or fourth floor. I know there is a Hippogriff somewhere on one of these floors and I do not want you injured," he stated in a tone, that was by no means a request but an order. Tracey merely nodded her head and looked about with further distaste. "I also expect you to be respectful and be mindful of Mrs. Weasley."

Tracey raised brow at this and tilted her head as her gaze snapped at her godfather. _That_ was not a request she expected to hear from him.

"It would be in your best interest," he merely stated at her mildly questioning and disbelieving look. "You are now surrounded by Gryffindors, who will take any sign of disrespect towards their matriarch as an invitation to make your life miserable."

"Very well. I will endeavor to be... _civil_ to the senior Weasley's," Tracey stated coolly, though she didn't wholly like it.

"I expect no more. Now come, I must introduce you to Mrs. Weasley's before I'm off," Severus, motioning for her to follow as he swept past her. Tracey fought to contain a sigh as she made to follow her godfather once more, shutting the door to her her bedroom- for the time being- behind her. She could feel her stomach tightening on itself.

Retracing their steps, Severus led her back to the ground floor. However, Tracey noted that instead of moving along the ground floor, he instead lead her towards the door, which led to another set of steps, these leading to what she assumed was a basement. Pushing the door open at the foot of the cramped, stone stairwell, Tracey was somewhat surprised to find herself in a kitchen area. A very gloomy kitchen area at that.

"Oh Severus, I thought it might be you," a plump, short woman with bright red-hair called, turning momentarily away from her task, which Tracey guessed was making lunch. Making sure her stony expression was in place, Tracey followed a step or two behind her godfather and a little to his left, as he stepped further into the room and approached the woman.

"Mrs. Weasley," he said, by way of greeting as he came to a stop, before motioning Tracey forward. "This is my goddaughter, Tracey. Tracey, this is Mrs. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley turned her kind gaze from Severus and offered Tracey a full smile. Tracey for the moment was suspicious, until she noted with a detached sort of bemusement, that the smile actually reached the woman's eyes and was sincere.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Tracey stated, though her tone came out in deadpan as she reached a hand forward. Mrs. Weasley wiped her hands on her apron before shaking Tracey's hand vigorously, which somewhat appalled the young girl, but she made no outward show of this. Though she wasn't often given to displaying them, Tracey _did_ know good manners and when she should use them. It all came with being in Slytherin.

"It's lovely to meet you too, dear. Has Professor Snape shown you around-"

"I have only shown her to her room, but I'm afraid I can't stay much longer. I must be going now," Severus interrupted, his tone cool but his voice velvety smooth. Tracey felt her stomach twist at the knowledge that now he would be leaving her but forced herself to shove it aside. After all, she was not a toddler who clung to the skirts of her guardian. "I only wished to inform you that my goddaughter has arrived and introduce you before I took my leave."

At this, Severus turned away from Mrs. Weasley and turned to Tracey. Tracey turned away from the red-head woman, only enough so that the woman was still in her periphery as she turned to return her godfather's look. "I will come and check on you, presumably in the near future and I expect to hear nothing negative about your behavior."

Tracey crossed her arms over her chest, straightening her spine while arching a brow at the dark-haired man before her. Her gaze darkened as she thought about the fact that he may as well be telling her to behave, and felt offended as he'd already told her this before. Tracey had never liked being repeated questions or instructions to and Severus knew better than to reprimand her before other's like this.

"That was already understood, _sir_," Tracey deadpanned, her tone at least free of the defiance in her stance and gaze. Severus narrowed his eyes, but merely chose to nod his head telling himself that she was at least mindful of not being more outrageously rebellious and refrained from calling him Severus, something she knew never to do in the company of other's.

"Mrs. Weasley," Severus said by way of goodbye, before turning on his heel and succinctly vacating the area. Tracey tensed as soon as the door fell shut behind him and was struck with the realization that she was alone with a stranger. Turning slowly, making sure her face was still a mask of perfect stoicism, Tracey turned to the woman who was smiling gently at her.

"Why don't you have a seat at the table, dear? I'm about to serve lunch," Mrs. Weasley instructed. Rather than say anything in response to this, Tracey turned and picked a seat carefully at the very long table that dominated the center of the room.

Before anymore could be exchanged, the door towards the kitchen opened. Tracey, who had purposely chosen a seat that allowed her to face the entrance to the kitchen, tensed as she saw a tall, red-head boy come in and stop as he spotted her. His mouth, which seemed in the process of saying something, had frozen, his jaw hanging somewhat open as he looked at her with clear confusion on his face.

"Oh, Ron dear. Could you run up and tell everyone lunch is ready?" Mrs. Weasley asked, from where she stood over by the stove. However, Tracey only saw her doing this form the corner of eye, as her gaze had remained trained on the Gryffindor boy before her.

Tracey'd of course recognized Ronald Weasley as soon as she he'd opened the door into the kitchen. Given that he was tall and decidedly ginger-haired, and best friend's with the-boy-who-lived, he was difficult not to recognize, even if she hadn't been in his same year at school. However, as she noticed his blue eyes still frozen on her in uncertainty she realized that _he_ did not recognize _her_.

Tracey didn't take this personally as she arched a brow at the still frozen boy, trying to gather his wits. For the most part, Tracey kept to herself and outside of her house, she never really bothered to interact with anyone. As she neither took part of Pansy or Draco's personal vendetta against the golden trio, and always tended to stay in the back, silently watching the proceedings, she knew that she was virtually invisible to the other houses. Considering she was Snape's goddaughter and that life could become very complicated for her if that got out, especially with Severus' role in the current war, it was really for the best.

"Who's this then?" Ron finally blurted when he finally gathered his wit's enough to speak. Tracey was unimpressed by the boy's choice of words. However, it seemed that Mrs. Weasley was not pleased with her son's rude question.

"Ronald Weasley, what kind of manners are those?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her tone heavy with displeasure, as she started magically setting the table and placing food along the center as well. "Now you run up stairs and I will introduce everyone at once," Mrs. Weasley instructed. Ron hesitated for a moment longer, before a particularly threatening look from his mother, had him turning on his heel and running up the stairs. "I'm sorry about that, dear."

Tracey merely shrugged her shoulders before looking over at Mrs. Weasley. "It's fine," she stated uncaringly, while Mrs. Weasley went back to work.

Gathering her wits about her, imagining what was coming next, Tracey placed her hands carefully in her lap. Absently, she pulled in the long sleeves of her black, fitted robes and traced the the outline of her wand tucked in her right sleeve where it was holstered.

Sitting straighter in her seat as she heard the unmistakable sound of steps, Tracey made sure her mind was clear and her face expressionless. However, the sudden sound of popping preceded the door opening and had Tracey tensing in her seat.

"What this we here we've got a visitor?" a voice piped up as two people appeared next to Mrs. Weasley, who shrieked and jumped in the air just as the door into the kitchen opened. Tracey had a hard time keeping track of all the red-head's that suddenly appeared and felt her stomach twisting in discomfort. She felt the coming of a headache as she felt eight different sets of eyes on her as Mrs. Weasley started to shriek at the twin's who'd appeared at her side out of nowhere.

Tracey tried to remain unconcerned at the looks she was given, returning each one fearlessly and coolly before Mrs. Weasley instructed her children to sit down. "And where is Sirius?" she asked when the four Weasley children finally sat, the four gathered there choosing to sit on the table opposite of Tracey and still staring at her with questioning and evaluating eyes.

"He's feeding Buckbeak, but he said he'd be down in a moment," one of the twins said as they both fell in the seat's directly opposite of Tracey.

"This is Tracey Davis and she is going to be staying with us for the rest of the summer. Tracey, these are my sons, Fred and George, and of course Ronald is in your year. And there at the end is Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly as she finished setting the table.

"Hold on. In my year? I've never seen you," Ron stated, looking at her suspiciously.

"Well then I suppose you're not particularly observant," Tracey deadpanned, earning herself a dark look, but Tracey didn't really care. She'd never been particularly friendly, and she wasn't about to start. She wasn't even sure she knew how to be friendly.

"Why is Tracey staying with us?" one of the twin's asked, using her name much to her surprise. Though she supposed she couldn't be annoyed as it was her name, and it was probably better than any alternative they could come up with. Before Mrs. Weasley could answer, the door of the kitchen opened once more, admitting a tall and slender man with curls of dark hair and haunted eyes. Tracey eyed him warily as he shot her a brief look before making his way to sit at the far end of the table.

"It this her then?" Sirius asked Mrs. Weasley, motioning towards Tracey with a careless wave of the hand. Tracey arched a brow, taking in the man that looked like he was in the process of putting on weight he lost, as his features seemed a bit too gaunt to be healthy and were a bit pale.

"Tracey is Professor Snape's goddaughter and Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore thought that Tracey would be safest if she spend her summer here," Mrs. Weasley explained, shooting a look towards the dark-haired man who Tracey took to be Sirius Black.

However, Tracey wasn't concerned with Sirius Black or Mrs. Weasley as she was with the four red-heads sitting opposite her, gaping at her in shock and horror. Trace felt her lips twitching in the need to snarl at their staring. She had of course been aware that the revelation of her relationship with Severus would be necessary, but that didn't mean she liked it in the least.

Taking a deep and calming breath, Tracey returned each look given her steadily and dispassionately. She could see the suspicions, the wariness, and the open distrust. She had expected this, after all she was a Slytherin and she'd been dropped in a nest of Gryffindors. All there was for it was to grit and bear it.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n:** Thanks to everyone who faved or followed. I would really like to hear from you guys!

Special thanks to _AUOverHere_ for your kind words. I'm really glad you enjoyed the story and the writing style, as I wasn't quite sure if the chapter was up to parr. And thanks so much for pointing out the mistake where I accidentally put godfather instead of goddaughter, I fixed it immediately after you did so. I hope the story continues to please. :)

Also special thanks to _Penny is wise_ for taking the time out to review.

**Prompt: **Nobel Peace Prize (#86)

* * *

"_But these problems aside,  
I think I taught you well."_

_-Of Monsters and Men, King and Lionheart  
_

* * *

The first few days spent in Grimmauld Place were certainly an adjustment. As Tracey had never before had reason to interact very much with the Weasley's, and as she was a Slytherin and Snape's goddaughter, her reception by them was not exactly a welcoming one. For the most part, at least where the youngest two Weasley's were concerned, she was someone not to be trusted or treated kindly.

For the twin's part, they at least left her alone. _Mostly_. Tracey guessed that in part, this was because of their mother, but also because they too were at least giving her the benefit of the doubt for the moment. Tracey was a bit appreciative of this, though she would never admit to it.

As for the elder Weasley's, Tracey felt more wary of them then almost anyone else. Even Sirius Black's treatment towards her, which varied from ignoring her existence to treating her like an unwanted guest, depending on the day or his mood, did not bother her. However, the sincere kindness from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and their nurturing and warm natures, set Tracey a bit on edge. She wasn't particularly use to such open care, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it.

While her grandmother had been doting and loving of her, she was also getting quite on in age. A lot of times, near the end, she would sometimes look at Tracey like she didn't know who she was. And there were times when she'd confused Tracey for her mother, though Tracey wasn't sure why, as her hair rather set her apart from her mother, who's hair had been chocolate brown.

Sometimes growing up, Tracey wondered if her grandmother loved her because of _who_ she was, or who her grandmother _thought_ she was. It was a thought that so often made her heart clench in her chest with hurt, hurt that she tried desperately to ignore and put a brave face to, but sometimes she was just too young. Her little chest simply couldn't take it.

But her grandmother had a biological imperative to love her. The Weasley's had no reason to care for her, to be kind to her, especially as Tracey had never given anyone any particular reason to be warm to her. Tracey was unabashedly a hard girl, with a difficult personality which pushed others away. But the Weasley's treatment towards her puzzled her, and made her uncomfortable.

Unlikely as it seemed, Tracey found herself acclimating to Grimmauld. Even when it was disrupted with the arrival of Hermione Granger, the same week that Tracey arrived there.

In the Gryffindor girl, Tracey found someone a bit more friendly, though still reasonably wary. However, Hermione Granger had never been someone Tracey liked very much. In their four years together, Tracey noticed that just like Pansy Parkinson, Hermione seemed particular desirous of praise and attention. Though, while Pansy sought this from her peers, Hermione sought it from their Professor's, which to Tracey was no less vexing. Having never been one for flaunting, she didn't understand Hermione's pathological need to be noticed for her intelligence or cleverness.

But despite her unkind opinion of Hermione Granger, Tracey did at least try to be more polite towards the bushy-haired girl. After all, Granger was making a decent attempt, the least Tracey could do was be a bit more civil to her. Though, nothing could quite make her be particularly friendly. It was simply no longer in her nature.

Apart from the regulars, and a grouchy house-elf that Tracey rarely even saw, there was a stream of people constantly coming and going from the house Mrs. Weasley was trying to put to rights. While Tracey minded her business for the most part, putting up with aiding the Weasley troupe in making Grimmauld place livable with her usual stoicism, the other's weren't quite so content, gathering every bit they could to discuss just what was going on in the Order's meetings.

Tracey meanwhile was preoccupied with other things. She didn't care so much what the Order was doing, _she_ was more concerned with _one_ particular Order member, and that was her godfather.

Since Severus had dumped her at Grimmauld, Tracey didn't get to see very much of him. While she had known to expect this, she had hoped she would see him a bit more than a few minutes once a week or so. The situation was highly irritating and unbearable, that her outer facade was cracking ever so slightly.

She was concerned for Severus. As much as it embarrassed her to admit it, as much as she would never admit it out loud, she had grown to think of Severus as a bit of a father figure. Having never really had one, having no hope for ever meeting or being able to have a normal relationship with her own father, Severus was all she had. And she couldn't bear the thought of something happening to him, and knowing the nature of his work for the Order, Tracey knew that his dependable presence in her life was being threatened.

By comparison, everything else paled in importance.

The muffled sound of shouts broke Tracey's concentration. Looking up from the book she was reading, she momentarily glared at the ceiling and the ruckus from overhead. Though, she couldn't make out too many words, muffled as they were by the floorboards, she definitely heard the distinct sound of someone shouting. Someone male.

Frowning, Tracey stared a bit longer at the ceiling until it clicked in place why this should be niggling at something at the back of her mind. A few nights prior to today, there had been a bit of a commotion. From what Tracey was able to glean from her quiet observations, it involved Potter using magic illegally, and the Ministry of course found out about it and was trying to get him expelled. The Order, particularly Dumbledore, had been put under strain do to these unforeseen circumstance, and she knew that they were making plans for Potter's defense at the hearing and to get him out of his muggle relative's home.

_Was that tonight then? Is he here already? _Tracey wondered as the shouting finally seemed to die away. She heard footsteps overhead, but shook her head, wondering at what it had all been about.

Over the last couple of weeks, ever since the arrival of Granger, Tracey knew that she should expect the arrival of Potter at some point during this summer. And given the anxious looks the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl got whenever they received an owl, or the muttering she at times heard Granger saying to herself, Tracey had deduced that Potter's arrival was something that set her a bit on edge. Though why, Tracey was unsure.

From all her years at Hogwarts, she had assumed that the Gryffindor trio was joined at the hips. Granted she'd known of a few row's they had over the years, but she still figured that the arrival of Potter would please his friends. Narrowing her gaze on the ceiling, Tracey surmised that perhaps it was Potter shouting, and it was his pissy attitude that Granger had been worrying about. Although, why Potter should be angry, Tracey was uncertain.

Sighing, Tracey pinched the bridge of her nose. She hoped that Potter's presence didn't upset the routine she'd settle into much. Though, somehow she knew there wasn't much hope... it seemed wherever Potter went, chaos and trouble seemed to ensue.

**~X~**

A soft knock on her bedroom door had Tracey getting up. Walking over quietly to the door, she opened the door slightly and peeked into the darkened hall, only to find a tall, dark silhouette. However, she would know him anywhere, even in the badly lit halls of Grimmauld Place.

Opening the door wider and stepping back, Tracey wordlessly motioned her godfather in. "The meeting's over, I take it?" Tracey asked as he stepped in and shut the door behind himself. Severus only stopped by to check and visit with her when he was over Grimmauld for a meeting or to give a report, which wasn't very frequent. Tracey imagined this was because most of what he reported went directly to Dumbledore first, and that Severus only shared the parts Dumbledore wanted the rest of the Order to be informed about.

"Indeed," he replied tersely, his tone giving nothing away as he took in his surroundings, taking special note of the books scattered on her bed. "Have the Weasley's continued to pester you?"

Tracey wanted to cross her arms over her chest and huff, but refrained from doing so as she felt his dark gaze turn to look at her questioningly. She knew that he was simply trying to look out for her, but she found it unnecessary. Thus far, the Weasley twins had simply tried to make nonchalant inquiries about what her godfather was up to, which she always craftily avoided.

Though, there really wasn't much for her to tell. While her godfather was open with her, and told her things that perhaps the other members of the Order, Mrs. Weasley in particular, might not deem her old enough to know, Tracey was still a bit in the dark as to what exactly he was up to. The extent of her knowledge of Severus' activities only went as far as knowing that he rejoined the Dark Lord's ranks and that he was rubbing elbows with known and unknown Death Eaters. Tracey didn't know the gory details and she wasn't sure she wanted to know; so long as her godfather was safe, that was all she really cared for.

"I can deal with a few nosey people, I've done it plenty before," Tracey replied monotonously. "It isn't an issue."

For a moment, there was silence. Tracey poised herself, her curiosity coming to the fore, but then she hesitated. She was unsure how wise it was to ask the question. After all, any idiot could see that her godfather absolutely detested Potter. Though, Tracey wasn't really sure why; she knew that the roots of that hate were stemmed from the relationship Severus had with Potter's father.

For her part, Tracey wasn't given to hate the-boy-who-lived. While it was true that she'd never particularly seen anything about him that warranted attention in class, no particular cleverness or talent for magic, Tracey couldn't outright bring herself to hate him. She knew that Severus liked to call out on Potter for being an attention-seeking brat, but being surrounded by two of the most attention-seeking, pompous, idiots in all of the school on a daily basis, she knew that Severus was wrong about Potter; at least in that aspect.

The only thing Tracey thought might be a deficiency in character about Potter, was his nearly pathological need to break rules. But then, Tracey wasn't even sure if that was of Potter's own doing. After all, considering the fact that he'd been marked by the Dark Lord since he was a baby, she couldn't really see how he was to blame for the trouble that followed him.

"I was thinking about perhaps taking you out for dinner tonight," Severus finally said softly, breaking the silence. Tracey's eyes snapped to her godfather, her large eyes widening in genuine surprise that her mask of complete indifference to the world shattered. For a moment, her eyes blinked at him slowly in disbelief as her stomach started uncoiling.

"Are you joking?" Tracey asked in a tone of disbelief tinged slightly with suspicion, even as the feeling of excitement bubbled in her stomach. In the two weeks she had been in Grimmauld Place, she hadn't been outside or had fresh air once. Though, Tracey was used to darkness (living almost year round for the last several years in dungeons) and though she tended to prefer the indoors, she was starting to go a bit stir-crazy.

Severus arched a brow and sneered down at her. "When have I ever been known to... joke?" Severus asked, distasted for the word joke entering his tone as he finished with a twist of his lips.

Tracey stared at the man before her, but decided against saying anything. Contrary to popular belief, Severus did have a sense of humor, a rather dark, morbid, one that very few could appreciate. But then, she guessed if she pointed that out, she would be arguing semantics. Instead she merely flashed a rare smile at her godfather, "Where to then?"

An hour later found the Slytherin seated very comfortably across from each other in a chinese restaurant in muggle London. As the risk of running into someone who would recognize Severus and ask too many questions about his being accompanied by one of his students, outings were a rare treat for Tracey, usually restricted to muggle parts of England.

"So, what's the occasion?" Tracey asked as she sat back in her chair, only raising the question when they were through eating and she didn't have to worry so much about Severus cutting the outing short because of an ill-timed question.

"Who says there's an occasion?" Severus asked as he paid the bill.

"I'm not stupid, Severus. There has to be a reason you arranged this outing. You wouldn't risk taking me out, not _this_ summer, and not when you've dumped me at Grimmauld," Tracey explained in a tone carefully calculated not to show any emotion, specifically the exasperation she felt and the slight since of abandonment that had been steadily mounting over the course of two weeks.

Severus sighed, setting the bill and muggle money aside as he sat back and glared over at the girl before him. "Sometimes you are far too bright for your own good," Severus stated dryly, mentally berating himself for allowing her chatter through dinner about her studies, and the trivial every day activities of Grimmauld, to lull him into a false sense of security. He told himself he should have known better, should have known she was simply waiting for the opportune moment to ask.

"Well you have no one to blame but yourself for that," Tracey said off-handedly. Being as Severus was her godfather, almost everything with him was a lesson. From the moment he had taken her into his care, he had placed special attention in her education and he accepted nothing but the best where her homework and school work was concerned.

If Severus was demanding in his standards where his Slytherins were concerned, it was doubly so in Tracey's case. Were it not for Tracey'd determined nature, and thirsty sense of curiosity, she might have buckled under the pressure of such expectations.

"Potter was delivered tonight," Severus stated, in a tone that barely contained his loathing for the boy. An impressive feat, when considering just how much hate lay there.

"I thought that might be him, shouting I mean," Tracey stared thoughtfully. "What does that have to do with me?" she asked after a moment.

"I imagine Potter might be overwhelmed with information, and your introduction being postponed might be for the best," he explained simply and tersely in hushed tones. However, Tracey caught every word and found her eyebrows contracting marginally in thought.

"You're doing this for him?" Tracey asked, her tone arch as the idea was laughable.

"Of course not," Severus spat, sending a heated glare for even making such an asinine remark. "I imagine Potter's mind, feeble as it is, is currently under duress and that his Gryffindor sensibilities would be far too strained tonight to contain himself from an idiotic outburst where you are concerned."

"I can handle Potter," Tracey said in a bored tone.

"I don't want you to _handle_ Potter. I want you to stay away from him," Severus said, giving her a pointed look and in a tone that allowed for no argument. "An acquaintance with Potter, will cause nothing but trouble and would draw too much unwanted attention for you."

"I'm not sure why you're so concerned. Are you forgetting the house divide? Potter would never allow himself to become even remotely acquainted with someone from our House. If anyone did breach the Slytherin-Gryffindor divide, I'm sure they'd be awarded a Nobel Peace Prize," Tracey deadpanned.

"Then it shouldn't be difficult to make yourself as scarce as possible when he's near, will it?" Severus stated dryly, getting to his feet. For a moment, Tracey didn't move and peered looked at Severus through long, dark, curly lashes. Her face was an inscrutable mask as she watched her godfather, wondering why he cared about this so much.

While it was not the first time that Severus made restrictions on who she was allowed to have contact with, as it was in Severus nature to be highly controlling, he'd never been so adamant and immovable on the subject. Not even where Theodore Nott was concerned, and when considering the reasons why that particular friendship was not feasible and the fact that she was eleven when he told her his reasoning, Tracey was baffled at the lack of explanation where Potter was concerned.

But then, as her godfather hated the boy so much, she suppose she could understand why he was not bothering to explain it further. She guessed too that his concern for her somehow becoming a target because of Potter was his main reason.

"I still say that you have nothing to worry about," Tracey said as she stood, "But if it will make you feel better, I will do my best."

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: **Special thanks to _AlsoKnownAsMatt_ for your review. Thank you for your words, as I wasn't too sure how I was doing with my characterization and descriptions. Wasn't sure if I was being descriptive enough. I'm glad that you've liked the style thus far and I hope I can keep it up. :)

**Prompt:** Throw a Fit (#180)

* * *

"_Who knows how long, I've been awake now?  
The shadows on my wall don't sleep,  
They keep calling me, beckoning...  
Who knows what's right?  
The line keeps getting thinner."_

_-Imagine Dragons, Nothing Left_

* * *

She didn't notice when _he_ came in the following morning. Her back stood to the door as she studied the tapestry before her, her eyes locked to a pair of names in particular.

She'd never before been in the drawing room before. Thus far, they'd mostly spent days decontaminating bedrooms, the kitchen, the halls... apart from those rooms the only other place she had seen was the library on the first floor. Though, she hadn't gotten the opportunity to go through it at her leisure, as Lupin had spotted her and in no uncertain terms, though in his own polite way, made it clear that the library was off limits. A sentiment her godfather shared, and she hadn't yet had the opportunity to go back, not when Mrs. Weasley was dominating all their time with menial tasks and Severus giving back all her homework essays for revising as they didn't quite meet his standards yet.

Staring unblinkingly, her fingers reached out to touch the name Lestrange as her heart seemed to thud slowly, but insistently against her ribcage. Tracey ignored the discomfort she felt and merely continued to lightly trace the name she'd only heard before.

It was strange somehow, to see the name written on an old family tree. Somehow it like an abstract thought that suddenly found it's link to reality, cementing in her the knowledge that Lestrange was more than a surname that was nearly fading out of the wizarding world, it's only living carriers by blood, both locked away and serving life sentences in Azkaban. That the name was more than two faded of photographs of Death Eaters from old articles. That it in fact lived in two individuals who represented all that was left of an old family.

"Tracey, dear," someone called, breaking her thoughts.

Turning slowly away from the tapestry, retracting her finger with a sense of loss, she slowly looked to who was addressing her. From where she stood, she spotted Mrs. Weasley with her hand on Potter's slender shoulder.

"Yes?" Tracey asked, her gaze moving from the Weasley matriarch to the boy with vivid green eyes now staring at her. She wasn't sure why, but she'd never really noticed just how emerald green Potter's eyes were. Perhaps it was because of his floppy dark hair, or the ugly glasses he wore somehow worked to obscure them in the way they could not hope to do with the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

"You didn't get the chance last night to be introduced. This is Harry," he stated, moving her hand momentarily on Harry's shoulder, perhaps leaving his surname off in a way to side-step his fame somehow, "he will be staying with us as you might be aware. Harry, this is Tracey Davis, Professor Snape's goddaughter who will also be staying with us."

Tracey watched with slight boredom as Potter's eyes widened comically and his mouth opened like a fish out of water. Tracey surmised rather coolly, that Potter had not been informed of her before.

"Potter," Tracey merely stated, before turning away. If she was rude, she didn't find she particularly cared. She supposed in his case, despite her curiosity, she really must do as her godfather bid of her.

If Potter was troubled by this, he made no outward manifestation. However, she did overheard him, despite the various noises in the room, hissing questions at the others.

"She's really not so bad, Harry. A bit rough around the edges, but... you have to give her a chance," Hermione stated in reconciling tones. If Tracey was surprised by this, she found it really made no difference. While she had attempted to be better with Granger than with the others, and while the had found _some_ common ground where it came to their study ethics, she found that the Gryffindors' opinions on her mattered very little. In a few weeks time, she'd ben gone from Grimmauld and it was better for her if they pretended she didn't exist when they returned to school.

**~X~**

If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have hardly been aware that Tracey Davis was inhabiting Grimmauld, or that she was a Slytherin. His first few days at headquarters, he only barely noticed the Slytherin girl, as she seemed to keep quiet a lot and kept to herself. From observation, Harry somehow knew that the girl didn't keep to herself because she was shy, as the few times she did speak it was in a confident, but very bored tone.

Despite Tracey Davis not being openly antagonistic, or regarding them in any form with the arrogant superiority that seemed typical of her house, Harry still did not trust her. The fact that she seemed to try so very little to ingratiate herself with anyone in Grimmauld, furthered his opinion in believing that simply because she didn't strut about the place making pompous comments like Malfoy, did not make her someone trust-worthy.

However, it wasn't until a confrontation the Slytherin girl had with Sirius, that Harry finally looked at her like she was might be her own individual person, and not a manifestation of the snake emblem on the Slytherin crest.

They'd been working on the dining room on the ground floor, and once more Kreacher had been attempting to remove items that had been placed in rubbish sacks while muttering his usual offensive monologues when Sirius had finally gotten enough and threatened to present Kreacher with clothes.

"_Master must do as Master wishes,_" Kreacher muttered, looking up at Sirius with tears welling in his large eyes. The hurt and loathing shining brightly like glistening pools. "_But Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum..._"

Everyone watched with varying degrees of discomfort, except for Ron and the twins who seemed rather amused, as Sirius suddenly shot forward and seized Kreacher by the back of his loin cloth and used it to rip him high into the air.

"You mustn't... he doesn't know what he is saying," Hermione's raised over the squeaks from Kreacher, trying to appease Sirius and dropping the object she was handling as she tried to move forward. However, it was too late. Sirius had already thrown the small, elf body from the room and slammed the door shut behind him, causing the room to lapse into silence.

Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable as he looked away from Sirius, who was looking particularly satisfied, and Hermione who was pale and looking simultaneously distressed and disapproving.

After encounters with Dobby in his second year, he knew how irritating dealing with a House-elf could be, and Kreacher was especially trying when considering the awful things he muttered, but Harry wasn't sure he was comfortable with Sirius' treatment towards Kreacher. In a way, he knew it wasn't really Kreacher's fault that he said those things. But at the same time, Sirius was his godfather and he was having a tough go of it, being locked away in a home he detested while being unable to do anything he felt would be useful.

"You're really foul excuse for a human being," a sultry voice spoke, laced with such disgust that Harry found himself startled. Snapping his eyes up, he looked just in time to watch a small body crash into Sirius, clenched fists banging on his chest as she shoved at him and hit him with all her might; her straight, dark-auburn hair which fell in layers just past her shoulders flailing about her wildly as she did so.

"He's a house-elf, it's in their nature to serve. Taking care of their masters is what they live for. It was makes them happy. It's not his fault your family corrupted him with that pureblood tripe and it doesn't give you the right to treat him like he's a toerag," she screeched as she continued to bang on his chest, while everyone watched completely stunned as the quiet, Slytherin girl completely lost it.

Down the hall, they could hear the screams from the portrait of Sirius' mother, added to the uproar.

"Gerrof me you lunatic," Sirius yelled, as he finally caught Tracey's small wrists in his larger hands and clenched at them tightly in his attempt to stop her. But even this was not enough to stop the enraged Slytherin girl as she continued to try and hit Sirius, pulling and tugging at her caught wrists.

"You're a piece of-" however, whatever she was saying was cut off as Harry found himself wrapping his arms around the small waist of the girl and lifting her away from his godfather. Harry wasn't even sure when he'd moved over to help, but only knew that he had been somewhat concerned for her bony little wrists being clenched so tightly by Sirius.

"Get off me!" Tracey shrieked as Harry lifted her off the ground, noting for a second that the top of her head barely seemed to reach his chin. "He deserves it; foul, loathsome, git that he is!"

Even as Tracey continued to kick, it was no use. Years of Quidditch had undoubtedly made Harry quite strong, despite his deceptively slender appearance. With his arms wrapped tightly around her center and lifting her off the ground, Harry was almost sure that he could feel the girl's heart beating rapidly like the wings of a snitch through his forearms.

"Get off!" Tracey screeched, banging her head back and narrowly missing Harry's face as he moved his head to the side, so that her head connected with his neck and shoulder.

"I'll let go, if you calm down," Harry muttered through gritted teeth, even as the soft strands of her hair tickled the exposed skin of his neck and cheek.

But Tracey was either not in the mood to be pacified, or too caught in her anger to even be able to hear reason. "I said get off!" she screeched, aiming a well placed elbow to Harry's rib. An "_oof"_ was pulled form his lips, and yet Harry's arms did not relinquish their hold on the girl's small waist.

"What is going on here?" Mrs. Weasley shouted when she came in, causing everyone in the vicinity to stop and turn to look at her.

"Ouch!" Harry yelled, caught off guard by the sudden stomping on his foot. Letting go of the slender girl, he hopped on a foot as he attempted to grab a hold of his now throbbing one.

"Don't touch me, Potter," Tracey huffed, pausing a second between each word as she struggled to contain her breathing; her jade-green eyes flashing dangerously at him even as a flush crawled over her cheeks. Harry stared at her bewildered for a moment, still holding his aching foot, but before he could think of anything to say she had whirled around so quickly that her hair had fanned out behind her and was billowing after her as she marched form the room, not looking or saying a word to anyone in the room, and only narrowly missing pushing Mrs. Weasley in her attempted to escape.

"Well Hermione, I think you've just found someone to else to join spew," Ron muttered. "Though, she's completely mental."

If Harry had been confused before about the Slytherin girl, the events of that afternoon had further perplexed him. Taking into consideration her very cold regard towards everything and everyone, her sudden burst of anger and violence had been completely unexpected. Even hours later, as he lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, he couldn't make head or tails of it.

After everything he had gleaned in the past four years at Hogwarts, the idea that a Slytherin would be so outraged on the part of a House-elf, simply seemed too much of a paradox. A paradox of such monumental proportions that it's very existence seemed to threaten the fabric of reality; Harry was quite sure that what he'd witnessed that afternoon was tantamount to a sign of the apocalypse.

Turning on his side, Harry closed his eyes and tried to brush thoughts of the short, Slytherin girl from his mind. But before the blackness of sleep claimed him, he felt a distinct clenching in his stomach at the thought that perhaps the Slytherin girl had acted more nobly than all the Gryffindors in the room put together.

When Harry awoke the following morning and trouped down to the kitchen for some breakfast, it was to the sound of more bellowing. Rushing down the stone stairwell, he burst through the kitchen door even as his heart clenched. He knew _that_ voice, and he knew that hearing it at such booming levels was anything but good.

Bursting through the door, his eyes took quick inventory of the kitchen. Seated at the table, watching with wide eyes and pale faces were Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley was attempting to wedge herself between and reason with Sirius and, much to his consternation and horror, with Snape.

"Are you such a coward that you feel a man, bullying a fifteen-year-old girl-" Snape was shouting, his teeth gnashing unpleasantly.

"Perhaps if she didn't behave like a wild animal-" Sirius was spitting back only to have a wand shoved further into his throat.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, though he was mostly ignored by the grown-ups as he made his way and moved closer to his friends.

"Will you two stop?" Mrs. Weasley shouted, rather ineffectively as she was ignored by both men who were too incensed to hear and too preoccupied with snarling threats and insults in each other's faces to even care.

"Mum informed Snape about what happened with Davis yesterday," Ron responded, his voice only barely audible over the angry, raised voices.

"I think Professor Snape must've come to see Tracey early, and I think he noticed the bruises," Hermione informed, her brows contracted with some concern.

"What bruises?" Harry asked, alarmed as his heart jumped with his sudden unease.

"Oh her wrists. Though, I wouldn't put it past her to have bruised herself on purpose," Ginny muttered darkly. Harry frowned at this, wondering when she'd bruised, but then recalled that after the incident in the dinning room, that the Slytherin girl had retreated to her room and refused to come out again for the remainder of the day and evening.

"Ginny, why would she do that? And if she had, she wouldn't be trying to stop them," Hermione retorted in mild exasperation and horror that Ginny would think such a thing. Ginny merely shrugged in response.

"What?" Harry asked, turning around to stare at the adults once more. It was only then that he realized that Tracey was there as well. That because of her short height and slender physique, he hadn't seen her because she was hidden by the bulk of Mrs. Weasley and Snape. However, he he looked around Mrs. Weasley he could just see the Slytherin girl looking up at Snape with a mild look of strain on her face as her hands attempted to tug on his wand-arm.

"You're overreacting. You know I bruise like a peach," he heard Tracey saying, though he had to strain his ears to hear. However, Harry was too perplexed at the idea of anyone touching Snape, much less a student, to think about the fact that she was actually trying to diffuse the situation.

As if his staring at her in bewilderment had triggered an extra sense the girl had, her large, jade-green eyes snapped up and met his through the miniscule gap between Mrs. Weasley and Sirius. Harry could see a quick thought flitting behind her eyes before she opened her mouth.

"Harry! Help me!" she cried suddenly, causing Snape to suddenly stiffen and Harry to jump forward a bit clumsily, though why he did so he was unsure. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like Hermione, telling him that it was his hero-complex acting up; that he simply couldn't resist trying to help others, no matter who they were.

"Never lay your hands again on my goddaughter again, Black, because there will be _nothing_ and _no __one_ that will stop me from dealing swift and unpleasant retribution," Snape threatened one last time before shoving Sirius very hard, away from him. Before Sirius could react Snape had whirled around, caught Tracey by the hand and dragged her out of the kitchen.

Harry stopped in his tracks, his head feeling like someone had just slammed a crystal ball over his head. "What just happened?" Harry asked, completely befuddled in the wake of the sudden lack of commotion while Mrs. Weasley lay into Sirius.

Harry didn't see Tracey again until lunch when she waltzed back into the dining room as if nothing had happened. Sirius, after a scolding from Mrs. Weasley, had long retreated into Buckbeaks room and had not come out since the morning. Lupin was actually up there with him, trying to get him to come out of his sulking.

Edging his way closer to Tracey, and hoping to go unnoticed (though, if her stiffening was anything to go by he'd been unsuccessful) Harry peered at her wrists and found himself frowning. Tracey was wearing a set of charcoal-grey summer robes with short sleeves and the hem of which only came down to her knees; different from her everyday wear in that they were not black as most of what he'd seen her wear seemed to be.

They left her wrists bare, but for the wand holster attached to her right wrist and the jet-black, ebony wand strapped there . However, even through the black leather of the holster, the hand-shaped bruises were very visibly. They were a light purple color that contrasted starkly against her very pale skin and had his stomach tightening in discomfort and his face scrunching up in concern and anxiety.

"Was he really holding you _that_ hard?" Harry asked, thinking that he might be sick as he tried to recall the altercation of the previous day. While he _had_ been concerned at the time that Sirius' hold might be too rough, he hadn't put too much thought to it after. A flash of Sirius' knuckles burned white as they clasped around her wrists, which seemed slender and tiny even without large, adult-male, hands wrapped around them, taunted his mind.

Tracey shifted for a moment away from him. "I bruise easily, as you may have heard. It might be a simple iron deficiency or something," Tracey said with a shrug of her shoulder, her tone as unconcerned as it always was.

Harry wasn't sure if that was the truth, or Tracey Davis way of trying to alleviate his remorse, but Harry didn't feel any better for hearing it. As if sensing where his thoughts were going, Tracey turned sharply towards him and met his gaze unflinchingly.

"I don't want or need your pity, Potter. Or anyone else's for that matter, so don't concern yourself with me," Tracey stated coolly before making to walk off.

"Why did you ask me?" he asked, stopping her in her tracks. Turning around, she raised a sleek brow over her large, doe-like eyes; distantly Harry thought that their wide-innocent shape, made them a contradiction to the hollow expression contained in their pale-green depths. "To help this morning."

Tracey merely stared at him for a few seconds, as if weighing her options. Ultimately she seemed to decide that answering him now might save her the trouble later as she opened to bow of her perfectly-shaped, petal-pink lips to respond.

"Calling you familiarly and asking _you_ for help was the only way to distract Professor Snape enough to get him away from Black," Tracey replied simply and in deadpan, before turning away and swiftly walking away form him, signifying the end of that conversation.

Harry raised a hand and scratched the back of his head, still slightly at a loss as to why that would work. However, as he looked away, mindful of Hermione's contemplative gaze on him, he tried not to think about it too much. Somehow he felt trying to figure out the workings of a Slytherin girl's mind might make his brain combust.

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**AlsoKnownAsMatt:** Thanks again for reviewing. Yeah, I don't know why people don't really seem to review my stories. It's a bit discouraging but I try to keep up writing anyway. And yes quality is def more important than quantity, but I'd be happy just to hear anyone's thoughts about the story. And you're right, I don't think Hermione would call it a hero-complex yet by OotP, but that was Harry imagining Hermione's voice in his head, not something she actually said. I hope the writing continues to satisfy and that I can keep Harry true to form, but also perhaps growing a bit more and working out his Slytherin prejudices. It's difficult though, I don't have too much experience writing Harry, or the trio for that matter. And OMG this reply is too long. Lol. Sorry. : }

**redstickbonbon:** Thanks for the review. It made me smile. Lol. I'm not sure why, it was just kind of amusing. I'm glad that you've enjoyed the story thus far and continue to enjoy it. I try to update as soon as chapters are finished.

**Prompt:** Quicksand (#74)

* * *

"_Some things we don't talk about,  
Rather do without,  
And just hold the smile."_

_- The Fray, Never Say Never_

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep, but considering the circumstances, that wasn't particularly surprising. Turning around in bed, he looked over at Ron, sleeping in the bed next to him, mildly snoring to himself contently and for a moment, he felt a horrendous swelling of envy in his chest. Wishing to stifle it, Harry turned on his back and stared the ceiling.

While the scouring of Grimmauld place, and his many failed attempts to gather intel from passing Order members, not to mention the presence of one very baffling Slytherin female, had certainly done a lot to keep his mind busy, it was impossible to forget at all times about the Hearing. When not dead tired, or at random intervals when something brought either school or the Ministry up, hist stomach would feel as though an anvil had been dropped into it. As much as he tried to act like he wasn't concerned, it was impossible, and if Ron and Hermione were anything to go by, they were worried too.

The next moment, a feeling of restlessness, surging from deep inside his bones, had him throwing the covers off him. Throwing his legs out of bed, he rose quietly from the bed and hurried from the room, careful not to wake Ron. Though, whether or not that was even possible was up for debate. Ron rather seemed to sleep like the dead.

He wasn't really sure where he was going, where his legs were going to take him, but he needed to get out of the room. He needed to stretch his legs. He had to do anything, anything at all, that would keep him from thinking of tomorrow and what it could bring.

**~X~**

On nights she couldn't sleep, when the work of the day or her studies hadn't tired her, and even occluding in bed was failing, Tracey took to exploring. On more than one occasion, she had tried to sneak into the library on the first floor, but to little avail. It was either always occupied by someone, or warded shut. It only made Tracey more curious to what possibly dangerous materials might be contained inside, if they were trying so hard to keep others out of it.

On this night when she'd tried again, only to find Professor Lupin and Black seated together and talking, Tracey had decided to troop back up the stairs as silent as a snake and slithered into the drawing room. She wasn't sure why she came here, but ever since she had seen the tapestry, she couldn't help coming back to it. Couldn't help staring at the name Lestrange.

Sitting on the floor, her back resting against the back of the couch, she continued to stare through the dark at the spot in the tapestry where she'd seen the name written. Though she sat in the dark, and the name was not visible to her eyes, she knew that it was there.

_Rodolphous Lestrange, _attached by a double line of gold to the name Bellatrix.

It was a bit strange, having never really thought of Rodolphous or Bellatrix too much in her life, and only really knowing about them and their crimes in recent years, to see that they were part of a family tree. It seemed so strange, to think of these two people who were supposed to be more than merely names of people now rotting in Azkaban, that there had been a life for them outside the prison. A life even outside their Death Eater personas. That once upon a time, they might have been her age and nothing more than students, growing up in their own dysfunctional homes with their own issues.

As she sat on the cold floor, continuing to stare unseeingly, she wondered what she was supposed to feel. Wondered if she was supposed to feel anything at all for these strangers; was she supposed to even care what loathsome, vile people they were, when most people her age weren't supposed to care about things other than school, their appearance and their social calendars?

If she focused on it, Tracey could feel a slight tightness in her chest, but it didn't pain her. As much as she tried to put a finger to feeling inside her, she kept coming up blank. She didn't feel anger, she didn't feel hate, resentment, bitterness, or even sadness. It made her wonder if it was possible that after so many years, she'd truly become numb to feeling?

Frowning slightly, Tracey tried to think of this rationally. She'd had years already to adjust to the truth, so perhaps it wasn't too surprising that she didn't feel anything about it anymore.

She supposed that when she was told some years ago, of the crimes Rodolphous, Bellatrix, Rabastan and Barty Crouch Junior had committed when she was only one, she hadn't fully grasped the horror of the situation. After all, she was only eleven when Severus had told her the whole truth. She didn't know then how awful the cruciatus curse really was. She didn't understand the full implication of what that curse had done; how it had ruined another family.

At the time, it had hurt only because what it meant for her. It had hurt because Rodolphous and Bellatrix, and yes even Rabastan... because of _them_... Tracey had no one but her grandmother, growing up.

_He_ was supposed to be there. Her gran had tried to explain it to her when she was younger, why _he_ hadn't been there to see her grow up and raise her as a father was supposed to, but Tracey had never really understood because all she was told was vague half-truths about her father. Stories about how he'd simply been young and made mistakes...

Lies of omission, she now understood. Her gran, perhaps because she was so young, had wanted to protect Tracey. Whether or not Tracey was grateful for this, she wasn't sure. Just as she wasn't sure once she'd learned the truth, what she was supposed to be feel about who her parents were, and what that made her.

Severus, being the man that he was, had given her the truth... as much of it as he could; unflinchingly, and without sugar coating it. And yes it had hurt, and Tracey had been angry and didn't want to believe it, but in the end, she'd accepted it. Accepted the past, and who she was and where she came form.

But sometimes, Tracey felt lost. Sometimes, she didn't know who she was. And every now and then, irrationally and ludicrously, she felt overcome with the sense that her blood was in fact contaminated. Like it was venom, coursing through her veins, tainting who she was.

Had she ever had a chance? A chance to be a normal girl? To be happy? To be good? Or had her blood damned her from the start?

Severus would tell her, whenever she was having an identity crisis, that blood did not make a person who they were. However, Tracey often wondered whether or not Severus really believed that, or simply _wanted_ to believe that. But... outbursts like the one she had with Sirius when he'd picked Kreacher up and tossed him from the room... that wasn't really _her_. That was something that surged from deep inside of her, something she was incapable of controlling no matter how practiced she was at Occlumency.

Tracey had been so humiliated that day, she'd holed herself up and refused to come out for hours. She'd never before lost it like that, at least not in front of _outsiders_. Even in front of Severus and gran, it had been something rare for her to lose her control like that.

Gran had called it the madness, often becoming frightened of Tracey's sudden and violent outburst of anger. Tracey, after learning from Severus the truth, had begun to call it the Lestrange Madness.

Tracey knew how pureblood families worked. She'd looked into it, she knew about all the inbreeding in their attempts to keep the bloodlines "pure". The truth of it was, as far as she could tell from her muggle upbringing, that all they did was poison the bloodlines with all their intermarriages. Poison she knew flowed through her veins, despite her mother being a muggle-born witch and diluting the effect to an extent.

Tainted blood. That's what she had, coursing through her veins; carrying in it the mercurial madness that Lestrange family was partially known for.

She could feel it again in that moment, surging through her. She tensed, her hands clenching onto her knees as she tried to resist the sudden urge she had to gouge at her own skin, in a futile attempt to rid herself of the blood in her veins; as if by scratching herself and bleeding it out, she could get rid of it.

Closing her eyes and resting her head against the back of the couch, she practiced her Occlumency exercises. She was in the process of clearing her mind, keeping focused on calming her breathing, when the sudden sound of approaching footsteps made her freeze. Turning her head, but otherwise remaining motionless, she listened as she footsteps came to right outside the door of the drawing room and then came the distinct sound of the door opening.

She could hear steps inside the drawing room and the door quietly shutting. Furrowing her brow for the moment, she wondered who else was up and wandering out in the dark as she heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. Putting some effort in not completely tensing, and making sure her breathing was quiet, Tracey continued to listen.

However, whoever was in the room, did not seem to be doing rounds looking for out of bed kids. The jostling of the couch she rested her back against, told her that the other night-wandered was now seated on the couch.

Furrowing her brow, feeling her curiosity taking the controls, she quietly got to her feet and peered over at the back of the couch at someone's messy hair. Even in the dark, the shaggy locks of incorrigible messiness were not hard to distinguish.

"Can't sleep either, Potter?" Tracey asked in quiet monotone, inviting conversation only to keep from her self-mutilating thoughts of just a moment before. The idea that it even crossed her mind for even a second disgusted her, and she knew if she had gone through with it, she would have hated herself for proving just how deeply the madness ran.

Potter nearly jumped out of his skin as he got to his feet swiftly and spun around. "Davis?" he asked, his voice a high whisper. In the dark, though his features were not distinguishable, she could see his skinny chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing and undoubtedly his heart. Tracey was partially amused. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep either," she replied with a shrug, walking around the couch and dropping into the seat on the other end of the couch, where Potter was now standing. "Are you going to stand there all night?" Tracey asked dryly a minute or so later, when Potter was still standing and staring in her general direction.

"Er-"

"Just sit down Potter, or get out, whichever. It really makes no difference to me," Tracey stated imperiously, rolling her eyes at Potter's verbal acumen.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Tracey could see the Potter's silhouette slowly sit down. Tracey smirked slightly in the dark at his unease, not concerned whether or not he could see it as she very well knew he wouldn't be able to. Even to her own eyes, which had long become accustomed to darkness, she could only see Potter's general outline, and some subtle ones like that of the rim of his glasses.

"Why so scared, Potter? I'm not going to bite," Tracey couldn't help teasing, hoping this put the boy somewhat at ease. Despite not being a remotely friendly or even social person, Tracey at rare times chose to humor people. Usually when she needed a distraction and Potter, considering the dark places her thoughts had been heading, had been a bit of a god-send. She wasn't about to pass it up, as she was a bit desperate at the moment. Not that she'd let on. "I suppose you're still concerned about your hearing tomorrow?"

Harry didn't say anything to this, but nodded his head stiffly even as his whole body seemed to clench. Harry had not intended to run into anyone in his late-night wanderings. He wasn't even sure why he'd come to the drawing room, but he'd been shocked nearly out of his skin when he'd heard Tracey's voice penetrate the silence so suddenly.

The fact that the girl had continued to speak to him, instead of immediately leaving, puzzled him enough to distract him from his worries. However, now that she'd brought up the subject, he couldn't help the sudden rush of anxiety that came over him.

"Why are you so chatty all of a sudden?" he snapped, unable to help the spike of anger and taking it out on Tracey as he turned to face in her direction. He hadn't wanted to think about the hearing, so why was she bringing it up now? Was she trying to torture him?

Tracey raised a brow at this, and felt mildly irritated but brushed it off. "Focusing on you at the moment is less draining than focusing on my own thoughts," Tracey replied aloofly. She knew that perhaps that statement gave a little too much away about her own personal state of mind at the moment, but she didn't think a Gryffindor like Harry Potter would have the mental acuity to take notice of it.

Harry tilted his head and though he could not see her, stared at the Slytherin girl in confusion. However, he couldn't help feeling suddenly curious about the girl. Tracey was a bit of a mystery, and something that hadn't been explained to any of them, was why Tracey was Snape's... responsibility. Why wasn't she with her parents? Why did Snape have guardianship over her, as he clearly must as she had to stay at Grimmauld?

"You shouldn't really worry Potter," Tracey stated suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts on her. He blinked as he stared towards her at a bit of a loss, only able to make out her petite form in the dark. "Worrying is like quicksand. The more you struggle with it, the more it gets a hold of you and sinks you quicker. Besides worrying is completely useless because it doesn't help you solve the problem and half the time you'll find, you've worried for nothing."

"Suppose that's easy for you to say, you're not the one who's being threatened to be expelled and have your wand snapped."

"No, but if it were me I wouldn't care," Tracey replied arrogantly. "If they snapped my wand or they didn't, it wouldn't make a difference to me. Magic is part of us, and you can never truly go against your own nature. I'd find a way to keep practicing, regardless of what the Ministry of Magic mandated. They can't truly keep tabs on you forever."

Harry tilted his head towards the girl and stared at her with a frown. He wasn't really sure whether he approved of disapproved at what she was saying. But then... hadn't Hagrid kept the pieces of his wand?Didn't he use magic on the occasion, before his name had been cleared, without being caught?

"You're a bit arrogant, you know that?" Harry stated when he wasn't sure what else to say, a tinge of doubt in his tone.

"Well that's your opinion, and I have no cause to particularly care for your opinion, one way or another," Tracey responded in deadpan. "But I think I've had enough of your verbal prowess for one night," Tracey stated sardonically as she got to her feet. "Good night, Potter. And take heart in the fact that if you are expelled you won't have to deal with arrogant, nasty Slytherin's anymore."

As Harry sat there for a moment longer, staring at the door where the confusing Slytherin girl just exited, he wondered if her parting shot was meant with malice. Sighing, and running his fingers through his hair, he supposed at least that the entire, bizarre encounter at least gave him other things to think about.

**~X~**

"I'm not sure why you're so concerned," Tracey groused the following morning after breakfast. Mrs. Weasley had trouped them all to disinfest yet another part of Grimmauld Place. Somehow Tracey felt that no matter how much work they put into the damn old place, the creepy crawlers somehow kept finding their way back and in Tracey's current cranky-state, she wasn't up to putting up with it stoically. "It isn't as though Potter would ever be expelled. He's not so lucky."

"Lucky?!" Ginny cried indignantly and looking at Tracey as though she were stupid. "How would that be luck?"

"Well the way I see it, every year he's been at Hogwarts he's been hospitalized at least once during the school year, had to put up with ridiculous amount of obstacles, and at the end of each year he either fights the Dark Lord or something equally bizarre and unlikely happens. And considering how many times the Dark Lord has infiltrated the castle, Hogwarts can't possibly be the safest place for him, can it?" Tracey argued in a bored tone, before dropping herself into a seat, propping her elbow on the arm of it and placing her head on top of her hand. As she yawned tiredly, she contemplated that perhaps she was getting far too comfortable around these Gryffindors if she could bring herself to sit in their presence, so unconcerned about them attacking her.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, suddenly stepping right in front of her. Tracey slowly dragged her eyes up the lanky frame of the red-head standing before her.

"Sitting down? Are you blind as well as dim-witted, Weasley?" Tracey retorted acerbically, though her tone was still flat and emotionless.

"You can't take a break! If the rest of us have to work like house-elves, you do too!" he stated, pointing a long finger in her face. Tracey grit her teeth. She'd never liked people invading her space, and a finger in her face was definitely on that list of things that ticked her off the most. Along with mistreatment of people or creatures that couldn't defend themselves properly, and being talked down to like she was stupid, or a child.

Before Tracey could threaten the red-head, Hermione Granger started one of her rants on the treatment of House-elves. Tracey turned away form the distracted boy before her, and looked at the bushy-haired girl in slight bemusement.

"You do know, that depriving them of work, and even proposing that they take vacations or income would be offensive to them and even potentially harmful to their systems, don't you?" Tracey asked, raising a brow at Hermione, cutting her off before she went full-steam ahead.

Hermione seemed to sputter in shock as she turned to look at Tracey. She gave the seated Slytherin girl a confused look as she tried to think of what she wanted to verbalize. "I thought that you- So you actually think that they should be treated like slaves?"

"I'm not saying that they don't deserve to be treated with respect or consideration, but it's their nature to serve. They feel deep inside themselves that their life only has purpose if it's lived in service of a witch or wizard they have sworn loyalty to. It's supposed to be a sacred bond, both to the wizard or witch as well as the House-elf. Without it, the House-elves fade. Their wills wilt, and their magic weakens," Tracey explained monotonously.

"But that's probably because of centuries worth of conditioning," Hermione argued.

Tracey shrugged as she stood up, tiring now of this conversation. She didn't particularly care to dissuade Hermione from her misguided mission. She knew that she wouldn't get the other girl to see things from her point of view and she didn't care to bother, even if she knew she would save Hermione a lot of time if she could manage to convince her that what she was working for would bring about no changes whatsoever.

"Possibly. But no one can really know, unfortunately documentation of House-elves has never been of importance to wizards. It is the unfortunate outcome of imbuing someone with such absolute power; _absolute power corrupts absolutely_. But that is reality," Tracey stated aloofly, even though she personally felt that House-elves are quite admirable little creatures. It was something about their purity and their sense of loyalty. Having opened her eyes from a young age, Tracey knew that there was so very little in the world that was pure and good, and she felt that such purity should be protected and cherished.

However, Tracey wouldn't share this, least of all with a Gryffindor lot that regarded her with suspicion at best and hostility at worst. Saying no more, Tracey swiftly got to her feet and exited the room.

"I can't stand her!" Ginny complained once the door had shut behind Tracey, though loud enough that the Slytherin girl probably heard her through the door anyway. "I mean does she really have to talk like that all the time? She sounds like a Professor or something! And she'd just so _haughty_!"

Neither Hermione or Ron said anything for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Hermione trying to understand what Tracey was saying and wonder how Tracey could not care about bettering life for house-elves, while Ron hoped that perhaps Tracey's more logical arguments might register with Hermione and convince her that she was wasting her time.

"Hey!" Ron suddenly stated as something occurred to him. "She just left us with all the work!"

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Sorry about taking for so long for this chapter. Was working on other stuff and wasn't quite sure how I wanted to portray this scene. I hope that it's satisfactory.

**Prompt:** Several Deep Breaths (#127)

* * *

"_There's a ship that sails by my window,  
There's a ship that sails on by.  
There's a world under it,  
I think I see it sailing away."_

-Mazzy Star, Blue Light

* * *

"So I hear you were cleared," Tracey stated somewhat sardonically as she slipped into the seat next to Potter after lunch, the only seat at the table left.

When she'd come into the kitchen for lunch, it was to the ruckus of the twins and the red-head girl chanting, '_He got off'_ repeatedly and quite loudly. Their childish antics would have been amusing, if Tracey could find herself to be amused by such immature silliness, but after hiding the remainder of the morning in her room studying, she was over-weary.

"Yeah," Potter replied, a bit sheepishly. Tracey raised a brow but didn't say anything as she proceeded to pile food on her plate. She had to give it to Mrs. Weasley, apart from being kind and nurturing, she was a very good cook. The food was as good as what the House-elves at Hogwarts made.

The remainder of the meal, Tracey remained quiet and as soon as she finished, excused herself from the table. She was headed for the door, when it suddenly open admitting her godfather. Immediately, the chatter form the Gryffindors quieted as they turned and noted who had entered.

"No need to get up, I've merely come to speak to Tracey," Severus spoke in his silky-tones, coolly addressing Mrs. Weasley before she was able to do more than shift in her seat, his eyes coldly surveying the room while a sneer appeared on his lips. Tracey felt her brows raise, she hadn't really been expecting a visit from her godfather, certainly not in the middle of the day. "Come along, Tracey."

Following behind her godfather, Tracey trooped silently after him all the way to her bedroom. "These arrived for you," he stated without preamble, pulling a pair of letters form his robes and handing them over. Tracey barely cast a glance on the writing on each, before setting them on her nightstand and turning to Severus. She knew that he hadn't come merely to give her a couple letters form her _friends, _the term used very loosely. "I also thought I should tell you, before it was officially out."

"Tell me what?" Tracey asked, her brow furrowing a little. She had a feeling that this wasn't going to be good.

"A decision has been reached for who ill be made Prefects this yer," Severus replied. "Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson have been chosen."

Tracey blinked for a few seconds in disbelief, unable to comprehend what was just said to her, as it seemed far too ludicrous to be plausible. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like she'd just been slapped in the face. It didn't quite hurt, but she was certainly stunned. While the appointment of Draco Malfoy came as no surprise, considering who his father was and the fact that in spite of being a pompous arrogant ass, he wasn't stupid, the appointment of Pansy simply made no sense to her.

"Pansy Parkinson? Pansy was chosen? You selected Pansy over myself and Daphne Greengrass?" Tracey asked, after taking a few seconds to recover form her shock and compose herself. In all honesty, something so trivial shouldn't have bothered her. She didn't even particularly want the position of Prefect. Yet, she couldn't help feeling _something_ inside her... becoming stronger and stronger the more time she had to think this over.

While Pansy was by no means incapable of some intellectual thought, at least where some things were concerned, she wasn't terribly intelligent either. She wasn't remotely clever, or subtle, and as bossy and haughty as she endeavored to be, her authority wasn't taken _too_ seriously. Pansy only did enough to have pleasing grades for her parents, but that meant nothing. The girl barely had any common sense, and she was a silly girl and her talent for magic was completely average and lackluster. She was absolutely mediocre in every possible way.

Daphne made a better candidate by being more cunning and clever, not to mention quite a bit more serious even if she spent most of her efforts rebelling against being the perfect daughter. Not to mention, was too self-absorbed to even care about her sister, much less anyone else in their House.

And Tracey, Tracey was his goddaughter! And to top it off, she was a model student and worked hard to be a highly competent witch. She spent hours studying and working on her spell and charm work every day since she found out she was a witch. Even before she was in school, she'd tried hard to control her "accidental" magic. How someone like _Pansy_ could be picked over her, was insulting and demeaning.

"While Miss Greengrass would make the better candidate for prefect, she wouldn't be the least bit inclined. And I'm certain I don't need to explain why _you_ can't be Prefect," Severus stated, giving her a pointed look. However, Tracey didn't care at the moment.

"So what, am I never to stand out in any way? I'm never going to be anything but the girl painted in the background because my dad's a Death Eater and I'm his bastard child that no one should know about?" Tracey asked, her hands clenching into fists without her being conscious of it as her tone became gradually heated. "I'm supposed to be just some stupid, invisible little wallflower, barely living a life and all the while becoming completely obscure and irrelevant? Does what I want even matter? Does it matter that I just want to be my own person? To live a normal life where I don't have to be afraid of where I come from, or someone finding out?"

"Stop that this instant, Tracey. You're acting like a child! Life isn't fair and whining about it isn't going to change anything," Severus snapped.

"I'm fifteen! I have a right to want a normal life, after everything's been shit for so long!" Tracey cried angrily, her face turning red in her anger from the exertion of trying to keep her cool. "Pansy is a fucking moron! She hasn't worked hard enough to deserve this and neither has Draco for that matter! Theodore should be Prefect and I should be Prefect!"

"Theodore lacks the ability to assert himself, and the drive to curtail the behavior of others. And as much as you deserve to be Prefect, there are more important things than a shiny badge and a few extra privileges. Your _life_ is worth more than _that_," Severus stated when Tracey had reigned in her anger, though she was still struggling to breathe and her fists were still balled up.

He'd known that this wasn't going to go over well, which was why he'd wanted to tell her in person and he thought it was best she found out through him, then through Parkinson's own gloating. Over the years, he'd seen Tracey work hard at her studies. He'd watched her as she tirelessly and determinedly worked through any of her shortcomings to make her work more than merely adequate.

Having personally been in a similar situation growing up, always desiring some kind of recognition for your hard work, he knew what it felt like when you were overlooked. You spent most of your life overlooked and being made by others to feel less than you are, that each passing rejection and disappointment only serves to embitter you and as much as he wanted to save Tracey from that, he couldn't give her _this_. Even if it would have given her, perhaps, some sense of normalcy.

"I know that you are disappointed-"

"I don't want to hear it Severus," Tracey stated, turning away from him and marching over to the window to stare out; she was still struggling with the anger coursing through her. She could feel herself trembling with her efforts to stuff it back into the box, away with all the rest of her emotions. "Please... just go away."

Beside her, her fists were trembling. She could feel tears of frustration building in her eyes, blurring her vision of the muggle teens roughhousing outside Grimmauld. She could feel something rising in her throat, feel it take root there and seem to swell and it took all her will to stifle it and keep from bubbling up. But it wasn't sobs that stuck there but something more feral.

Tracey wanted to scream.

Her composure was slipping, she felt it as her body started to shake with rage that she was struggling to keep contained.

"Go away, Severus," Tracey grit out, her hair falling to shield her face as she started to pace rapidly, in an attempt of ridding herself of the pent up energy welling inside her. Digging her heels into her eyes, she listened impatiently for his retreat. When she didn't hear it, she shakily ran her fingers through her hair, for a moment gripping it tightly and painfully in her fists before pulling them away swiftly and turning to glare at Severus who still hadn't left.

"Get out!" her voice came out loudly, gutturally, but it didn't seem to startle Severus. He merely stood there for a moment longer, clearly wary of leaving her to her own devices before nodding his head and exiting without another word.

As soon as the door shut, Tracey wrenched a pillow off the four-poster and clenching it tightly in her hands, placed it tightly against her mouth before clenching her eyes shut, doubling over and screaming. She knew that the pillow was barely able to muffle her screams, but she didn't care as she continued to scream and scream... until falling to the floor, her energy depleted and her throat having gone hoarse from the poor treatment towards her larynx.

Kneeling in a heap next to the bed, Tracey felt her fingers finally going lax, holding the pillow now limply in her hands as she leaned her head against the side of the mattress feeling blessedly now as though she'd been hollowed out. Somehow that.. that was easier than having to feel like a weak and caged bird... one without a choice... without a right to freedom.

She wasn't sure how long she knelt there, completely immobile and silent, barely aware of her breathing. She was a blank slate to the world, until distantly she became aware of the strain in her knees, and the fact that the setting sun seemed to now be shining through her windows as twilight descended.

Turning slightly, she slowly got to her feet and turned towards the bed. However, before she could throw herself down, her eyes caught sight of the letters she had so carelessly deposited earlier on the nightstand.

Frozen, her gaze latched intently on the two envelopes, Tracey felt a sense of foreboding crawling into her stomach. After the news she received... she had a feeling that this wasn't going to be any better. She could feel her heart begin to pick up as she debated whether or not she should deal with whatever it was now, or wait.

_What's the point of waiting? If it's bad news, will it make a difference? _Tracey wondered to herself before walking around her bed and sitting on the other side, just next to the nightstand.

Taking both letters in her hand, she hesitate as she stared at her name neatly and elegantly scrawled on the expensive envelopes; the one with the sharp, slanted writing she recognized as Blaise's script, the other more loopy and slightly less slanted one, as Daphne's.

Even without the perfume that trademarked all of Daphne's letters, of _Moonlit Jasmines_ or some such nonsense, Tracey would recognize the writing anywhere. She almost wanted to sneer at the gold bordering on the fancy envelope, but felt far too disgusted at the sight of such useless nonsense.

Still staring at both envelopes, she debated which she should open first. While Daphne's letter would be longer and more informative, Tracey was more wary of the girl's letter than Blaise. While both Slytherins were haughty, arrogant and self-serving, as a good portion of Slytherin House seemed to be, Blaise didn't bother to turn on the charm for anyone. It was his trademark to be seen as the untouchable, disdainful, git towards absolutely everyone; even those that were his so called friends or love interest. An attitude he only curved around teachers, and only just barely then.

And yet, it was Blaise who she was least wary of, of the two.

Sighing, she set aside Daphne's letter and ripped open Blaise's. As was usual, his note was direct and to the point. Not even bothering with a paragraph, even if it was a perfectly good waste of expensive parchment, but what did the _elite_ care of costs for such trivial things?

_Davis,_ (it read, because Blaise nor anyone in their House really could be seen to be on familiar terms with someone of dubious blood.)

_Theodore and Daphne are a couple. I'm sure Daphne will be writing to tell you _all_ about it, I thought you'd prefer to hear it from me first. _

_Prepare yourself._

_-Blaise Z._

Tracey could feel her heart once more beating irregularly. She could feel her breathing coming a bit shallowly as she unconsciously clenched her fists, balling up Blaise's letter.

She didn't comprehend, she found. The idea simply seemed far too impossible to her. _Theodore with Daphne? But they never talk! And there is no way that Daphne Greengrass would be interested in Theodore of all people..._ Tracey thought to herself as she shook her head, even as her hands started to shake as a picture of Daphne Greengrass floated before her eyes.

Daphne was easily the prettiest girl in all of Hogwarts. She had fair porcelain skin and the pouty, perfectly shaped lips of a china doll. She had almond-shaped eyes of the most ocean blue you'd ever see, and her hair fell in long waves to her waist of golden blonde. With her dainty, perfectly straight nose and almost hour-glass figure, she could have her pick of any male she wanted.

_So why did she have to want Theodore?!_

Theodore, while not ugly, was far from being your definition of handsome. He was quite tall, a fact made more noticeable when considering how slender the boy was. Even with all his stooping, there was no hiding the fact that he was over six feet in height. His skin, while being fair, had an almost sickly pallor to it. His eyes, which were a dull shade of grey, had always born a sunken look to them, due mainly to the purple half moons beneath them. He had mousy-brown hair that fell straight and almost limply in his face. It was clean, but far from being coifed and perfect.. in simplest terms it was lackluster.

Theodore had all the allure of a wilted flower. And yet...

Tracey threw Blaise's letter away form her and tore into Daphne's letter, ignoring the burn she felt in the pit of her stomach.

_Dearest Tracey,_ (If Blaise cared about his status and guarded it carefully behind his mask of abhorrence of absolutely everything under the sun, Daphne was the opposite. In fact, she took a sick delight in upsetting her parent's ideals.)

_I hope this finds you well. Of course, why it shouldn't I have no idea. You always have been rather mysterious about your family. I suppose that's understandable... given certain circumstances that might not be befitting of a Slytherin. _

_But enough of that. I have news for you and I'm sure you'll never believe it but... believe me, dearest. After all, why would I lie to you? You are after all my most cherished friend. But I supposed if you don't believe me, it doesn't matter, for you shall see for yourself soon enough. _

_As you must be aware, this summer has been a coming out of sorts. But perhaps you aren't aware, it is after all more of a pureblood tradition of higher society. There have been so many balls and parties and dinners to attend and while most of them were frightfully boring- these pompous elders can be so tiring- I was pleasantly surprised and delighted to find myself frequently in the company of Theodore. _

_Words cannot express the magic we have shared this past summer and I'm delighted, almost giddily so, to inform you that was have formalized. _

_I know that this must be a shock to you, as I've never shown any interest in Theodore... he has rather always seemed like a frightful bore, what with his nose always stuck in a book. But... oh my dear Teddy has all the sweetness of a ripe peach._

_I must sound to you like a blithering, romantic fool to you, but... you just don't understand. And how could you? Honestly Tracey, dearest, sometimes I think you were cut from the same tree as our dearest Head of House. It's almost impossible to believe that you have ever cared or would ever care for anyone, especially romantically. But that would be such a pity._

_However, I plan to remedy it. I do so wish to see you happy as I have been and believe you me, I plan to make it my mission this coming school year. Now its only a matter of finding you a suitable candidate. _

_What of Blaise?_

_Now I know that he has impossible standards, which would, rationally speaking, never deem someone like you worthy. But love is not a rational matter, is it? And if you ask me, it is a front where you are concerned in regards to Blaise. I think he cares very much for you, it is made quite plain in the way that his bards towards you are at a minimal. What do you think?_

_Write to me soon dearest, I do so miss you!_

_Sincerely,_

_Daphne_

The burning in her stomach had only increased, as well as her ire. Breathing heavily, Tracey violently ripped the letter to shreds, mentally calling Daphne every name in the book.

She could just picture the girl now, sitting at her expensive writing desk in her lavish room with her hair perfectly pulled into a fancy up-do all the while laughing cruelly at her not-so-subtle barbs towards Tracey's dubious family, lack of wealth and status. Dumping the shreds of paper to the floor, Tracey jumped to her feet and started to rapidly pace the room as her fists coiled and uncoiled as she continued to picture Daphne laughing at her, with her blue eyes sparkling malignantly.

Daphne was Slytherin's resident Ice Queen, or as everyone referred to her behind her back, the Ice Bitch. A girl as beautiful as she was cold. She never smiled truly, only smirked when she found amusement in her torture of everyone around her with her cruel barbs delivered in light teasing tones that didn't fool anyone.

Worst than her being beautiful, she was also incredibly smart and capable of actually playing nice... if it suited her to be _charming_. For the most part, Daphne looked down her incredibly perfect nose on everyone that surrounded her, and she took pleasure in cutting even the people around her to size. No one was free of her cruelty, not even her supposed best friends. Perhaps especially not them.

Tracey could still remember the time in third year when Daphne made an offhanded comment to Pansy about her nose being so upturned, it was cute like a piglets snout. _That_ had reduced the brunette girl to tears, all the while it had been delivered in teasing tones with Daphne barely looking up from the magazine she was perusing. It was only until Pansy had run down to the dorms, that Daphne had looked up and Tracey still remembered the cold, barest trace of a smile that had appeared on the blondes face as she watched Pansy disappear.

When Pansy finally had emerged the following morning at breakfast, it was with eyes that were red and swollen that the irises were barely visible. And even to Tracey, who didn't care about anyone and who generally disliked Pansy, couldn't help feeling sorry for the girl who'd spent the majority of the night trying to keep her sobs quiet. And much to her own astonishment, when she'd seen Daphne about to comment on Pansy's state, had pretended to accidentally knock over her goblet of pumpkin juice straight into Daphne's lap.

Daphne was a hideous person on the inside. As Tracey continued to pace, her stomach still filled with that unfamiliar burning sensation, she wondered what Theodore was doing with her.

Theodore, who was so smart- too smart to be taken in by pretty looks and false smiles, no matter how alluring they were. Theodore, who was more mature than all of Hogwarts boys put together. Theodore who was more sensitive than most boys his age. Theodore, who had an intense sweetness about him... what was he doing falling into Daphne's traps?

Before Tracey knew what was happening, her rage was upon her. It took over her body and in a matter of minutes, had upturned and destroyed whatever she could get her hands on.

_Theodore should have been mine!_

The thought, so startling and seeming to come out of nowhere, froze Tracey. She felt like ice had slipped into her veins and she stood deadly still, her eyes barely aware of the destruction around her.

Her heart was racing once more and her forced labor made her chest rise and fall almost savagely as she wondered where the hell that had come from.

_Come on, are you really going to lie to yourself? _A part of her asked dryly, from somewhere that Tracey couldn't bare to contemplate, as she continued to pant, attempting to regain control of her breathing while the rest of her was still as a statue. _All along, you've always wanted Theodore, why else have you continued to watch him over the years? Why else would Daphne write to taunt you about dating him, or Blaise to warn you? Even they've noticed. _

_You know he could have been your one and true friend, you've watched him over the years enough to confirm it. But you threw that possibility away. You shut yourself off from it. Because Severus said it would be best..._

Tracey felt traitorous tears prickling in her eyes. She grit her teeth, even as she felt impossibly as though her heart were breaking.

Theodore over the years, as much as it was painful to admit, was all she'd ever really wanted. She wasn't sure when her desire for his friendship had perhaps changed for something more. She wasn't sure- perhaps, subconsciously- that she'd always wanted him for something more... that it was the inevitable end-game of a friendship between them to become more.

_No use crying over spilt potion... you've been content to watch others live from the sidelines, sooner or later this was bound to happen. It isn't as though he was going to wait for you when he has no idea of your sentiments and fantasies of a life you'll never live, _the same voice went on. A voice coming from deep inside her, from the same place where she put away all her emotions and unwanted thoughts.

Running her fingers shakily through her hair, Tracey took several deep and calming breaths as she looked around her room and the mess she'd created. Heaving a great sigh, Tracey pushed the mattress back on the bed and without bothering with the disarranged bedding, threw herself on top and curled into a ball as exhaustion took over her.

Brushing away the tears that still gathered on her lashes, she ignored the tightness in her chest.

Thought she thought that it might be melodramatic, especially as she was only fifteen, she couldn't help but feel that all her life was passing her by. Almost as thought it were her fate to watch everyone living, as though from behind some far removed window in a high tower, with nothing but her observations and her desperate, silent yearning for company.

But that was as much her fault as Severus', wasn't it?

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n: **For any who are waiting for some Harry/Tracey romance, I'm afraid that you are going to have to be patient. A romance between them can't spring out of nowhere. I want them to have a sort of tentative sort of understanding and a bit of acceptance of one another before any such thing can occur. And considering Harry's prejudice, and Tracey's inability to really trust, they have a bit a ways to go. To not do so would make the story feel rushed, the character's to ring false and writing to seem poor.

As always, thank you everyone who is reading and a special thanks to you who take the time to express your thoughts, feelings and even criticism. It is very much appreciated. :) And I'm really sorry for the long wait for this update... life as always presented obstacles.

**Prompt: **Reconstitute (#93)

* * *

_"Words like violence break the silence,  
Come crashing into my little world.  
Painful to me, pierce right through me  
Can't you understand?"_

-Anberlin, Enjoy the Silence

"What do you think she's doing in there?" Ginny asked after dinner, pausing on the landing and staring towards the door at the end of the hall.

Harry, Hermione and Ron followed her gaze towards the door, behind which the could hear the sound of light feet and the shuffling of objects.

Ron shrugged his shoulders carelessly, while Hermione frowned in concern. She'd been the one Mrs. Weasley had sent to fetch Tracey for dinner. However, when Hermione had knocked on the door of the Slytherin girl's room, it was to be met with the resounding sound of the lock bolting on the door. No words were ever uttered, but Hermione had been bright enough to interpret the sound for all the response that she would get.

"She's probably up to something," Ron uttered suspiciously. "She's pretty much been locked in her room the whole day. She was only with us cleaning a little while this morning... and then she'd only showed up for lunch and never came back out since Snape left."

"Maybe Snape made her upset?" Harry asked, unable to help feeling that perhaps for the first time, Tracey was acting like a normal, broody teenager. In a way it was as mind-boggling as it was comforting. _So there is an actual person beneath the eternally bored, generally unconcerned, sarcastic Slytherin?_

However, perhaps that was a bit unfair. After all, hadn't Tracey proved that... no matter how deeply buried, there might be a nobel person underneath all the indifference? Hadn't she tried to diffuse the situation between Sirius and Snape? Hadn't she attempted to alleviate his concern for her wrists as well as his discomfort that his godfather had harmed her?

Harry shook his head, telling himself that perhaps he was seeing things that weren't there. After all, she hadn't done any of that for _his_ benefit. In all likelihood she simply hadn't appreciated what she thought to be pity... and she was probably concerned for her _own_ godfather- as odd as it might be to him the idea, no matter how abstract, that anyone could possibly care for Snape.

"What?" Harry asked when he realized they were all staring at him. "Snape can get under anyone's skin."

"You're right there, mate," Ron conceded as they proceeded to move towards the stairs and head up.

**~X~**

That night found Tracey once more seated in the dark before the tapestry of the Black family tree. She sat on the floor once more, with her knees gathered to her chest and with her arms draped over them as she stared darkly and yet blindly towards the general location of where the Lestrange name was written.

As she continued to stare unseeingly at the tapestry, she ignored the pressure she felt in her chest... that had refused to lessen since earlier. As much as she tried once more to erect her walls once more, she was having an increasingly difficult time with it. Even practicing Occlumency hadn't worked and she was frustrated but also... something else. Something with a sharp edge that she was afraid to put a name to. She wanted to call it simple apprehension, but she knew it was more than that. So much more, so much deeper.

The word fear bounced around in her head. It seemed whispered from that voice from earlier and echo eerily through her ears; that voice from earlier, that seemed to give life to thoughts she refused to acknowledge the last couple years. But now that the box had been opened, she seemed unable to pack everything back inside and lock it back up.

Running her fingers through her hair, Tracey took a deep breath before withdrawing her fingers.

Severus had, however inadvertently, prodded at a fissure in her wall. A fissure that had cracked open and expanded with the aid of Blaise's news and Daphne's gloating letter. And now, her wall which had been so carefully constructed... that had become such an integral part of herself that she no longer knew where it stopped and where she began... that wall was now falling to pieces and the pieces seemed to be raining down on her from the heavens above and Tracey wasn't sure how to fix it.

And here she sat now... completely exposed. Made vulnerable without her wall... the wall that had been such an invisible barrier that Tracey had almost _fully_ believed that it didn't exist and that she really didn't care.

But now it lay in ruins, perhaps only semi-erected, but at present too weak.

_That wall isn't your friend, _the voice whispered to her. _In fact, it keeps all those that _would _be your friends at bay._

Tracey perhaps would have been afraid of the voice being further proof of her lack of sanity, if she weren't so convinced that everyone had that voice. The one that contradicts you at every turn, makes you second-guess your choices... the one that fills you with doubts, but so to at times seems to be your champion in all things.

_It protects me and it's who I am_, Tracey argued. She knew she was just arguing with herself, and that it was silly to do so... but that was human nature. _Isn't it?_

Tracey wasn't really sure. The wall seemed to be there for as long as she could remember... she couldn't even recall a time before it's existence. Though she knew that apathy was a learned way of living, that it didn't run through all the way to her core, she knew that it ran more than deep enough. Enough that it was as much a part of her as her dark auburn hair and jade-green eyes.

_But just like _that_, it isn't _all_ that you are_, the voice argued and Tracey didn't have a response to that.

The thought that she wasn't sure who she was, seemed to linger around the corners of her mind, but Tracey didn't bother to acknowledge it. Instead, she once more turned to look at the tapestry.

It occurred to her in that moment, that perhaps her wall was a multi-layered thing. That at some point protecting her from others and keeping others from seeing more to her than an unfeeling girl, that it had expanded to separate unwanted feelings and thoughts from her... sectioning off what she deemed as weak or undesirable.

The mercurial Lestrange girl...

Voldemort's rise, Grimmauld place and her residence in it... these occurrences started chipping away at her inner walls. They were the foundation. Severus simply laid to waste, unknowingly, to the outer wall.

_I just need to focus... that's the problem. I'm not focusing, that's why it's so difficult, _Tracey told herself in frustration, running her fingers through her hair before leaning back and closing her eyes. With determination, she took several deep breaths.

_To put those walls up again... to such an extent is a mistake_, the voice told her. The voice sounded too much like reason for her liking causing her to let out her breath in a hiss of aggravation.

She was growing extremely weary of all this back and forth. After the overwhelming amount of sentiments that had flooded her, Tracey simply couldn't take it anymore and for a moment, she let it simply rest. Her chest felt tighter for it, and a she stared straight ahead of her through the dark, she knew that tears were gathering in her eyes, creating a film through which the world would have been made blurry if she could see.

The sound of the door opening and steps breaking the silence, hardly disturbed her. But it was a different indifference from the norm. Because even at her most apathetic, Tracey still could muster it in her to raise her defenses. However, in this moment, she couldn't. Mainly because she didn't have them.

"Who's there?" Tracey asked, her voice sounding foreign to her as her smooth sultry voice came out a bit grittier. "I'd really rather not guess," Tracey called with a heavy sigh when the silence persisted.

"Tracey?" Even if the voice came out uncertainly and with much hesitance, Tracey recognized it and sneered ironically.

"Of course it's you, Potter," Tracey muttered from where she sat, but her voice lacked any bite and seemed teemulous.

She could hear his slow steps as he walked around the couch, but didn't bother to turn in their direction. She could hear the floorboards creak beneath his socked feet and closed her eyes as she allowed the moment to come over her and distract her from her morose thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice quiet and slightly suspicious.

"Can't sleep," she replied simply, once more staring straight ahead, her tone raw from the emotions warring incessantly beneath the surface. "You know what it's like-" Tracey stated suddenly, turning her head in Potter's direction, though she was barely able to make his outline in the dark. "Don't you ever just get so tired and so... angry that for some reason... fate or destiny... has decided that you're not deserving of normalcy?

"And there is nothing you can do. Nothing at all. You are absolutely powerless to do anything about it, because your life is governed by elders who_ know better_. And it is all the more frustrating because you know that their overbearing rule over you, comes out of a place that is well-meaning," Tracey went on, her voice becoming increasingly bitter and derisive as the sentiments overwhelmed her good-reason and her suspicion of absolutely everyone that wasn't Severus and making her completely forget who she was talking to.

"You want to know something funny, Potter?" the thought occurring her, so suddenly and out of nowhere that she felt her heart clench so painfully that she forgot how to breathe. "I've never realized this before..." she went on, now talking more to herself than the still silent and increasingly uneasy boy in the room. "Probably because of the walls," she muttered to herself.

"I think- I _hate_ my life... and I really hate being _me_," Tracey admitted breathlessly, her throat closing shut and forcing her to take several deep breaths even as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"You think? Shouldn't you know if you do or don't?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself.

Tracey laughed; a bitter sound that made the hairs on Harry's neck stand on end. The tears continued to burn tracks down her cheeks.

"That's the thing, Potter," Tracey stated as she climbed to her feet and surreptitiously wiped her cheeks; feeling suddenly weary to her very soul. Her voice quieted. "When you've spent so long suppressing every feeling that comes up and denying that you even feel, eventually you no longer recognize sentiments... you forget what they feel like, what they mean... until suddenly it strikes you that... the emptiness inside that seems to yawn with every breath you take, is actually a single feeling... festering and growing inside of you until it consumes you.

"I'm starting to think that it might be better to be a Gryffindor who wears their heart on their sleeve," Tracey mumbled as she moved to exit, however, pausing beside the Gryffindor boy. "But... how do you survive every disappointment and break your heart takes?"

Harry wasn't given a moment to react much less think of a response as Tracey swept from the room as if she'd never been there in the first place. If Harry thought he'd previously been perplexed by the behavior of the Slytherin girl, nothing quite prepared himself for her words that for several hours after, he wondered if perhaps the whole thing hadn't been a strange dream.

The feeling that it was all a dream or a figment of his imagination did not abate. Even in the pale light of morning.

Perhaps especially not then, as when he next saw Tracey the following morning at breakfast, the girl was back to being her emotionless self, regarding everyone and everything around her with such complete and utter boredom, that it seemed _impossible_ that the girl could feel anything else. And if she made any note at all, or even realized that he spent his time watching her in puzzlement, she made no outward show of it.

It made Harry wonder if perhaps, he was starting to lose his own mind.

**TBC...**


End file.
